


A Soldier and His Dog

by bookworm213



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brief mention of animal death, Dog - Freeform, Gen, Homelessness, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, breif mention of Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:50:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3168842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm213/pseuds/bookworm213
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on some incredible artwork by xaviiers. All credit for the art goes to her. http://xaviiers.tumblr.com/tagged/bucky-critters</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Soldier and His Dog

The dog stared at him with large brown eyes and whined. It nudged Bucky’s metal hand (it didn’t seem to mind it much, that came as a surprise) and tugged at the sleeve of his ratty jacket, whining again for something Bucky didn’t have.

He stared down at the dog, his heart nearly breaking in two. “I know.” He croaked. “I know you’re hungry. I’m sorry.” 

Hell, he was hungry too, but knowing that both he and the dog were going hungry tonight made it a thousand times worse. Restaurants seemed to be catching on as to who was raiding their dumpsters in the middle of the night, and he’d found today that they had been locked with large iron padlocks. He had no money, and a mental voice in his head screamed at him whenever he tried to steal, telling him it was wrong.

He remembered a little. He remembered enough to call himself Bucky instead of “the soldier” or “the Asset.” He remembered how Steve had been his best friend, and how terrified he had felt when he’d seen him with the serum, the little punk he’d sworn to protect. He’d stayed in DC, too ashamed to face Steve, but also unable to leave. Sleeping in alleyways, scrounging for food and supplies, and trying to remember. 

It was after the Smithsonian that he’d found the dog. He’d been trying to get some sleep in an alley, sheltered by a cardboard box, when he felt a nudge on his right arm. He sprang up, his hand on the knife in an instant, immediately ready for a fight. Instead he found the dog, a medium sized brown and white hound with floppy ears, staring at him with large brown eyes. It nudged at him again, sniffing at the bag next to him where he kept what he’d scavenged to eat the next day. He stared, then reached into the bag and pulled out a crust of bread, which he tossed to the dog. The dog immediately devoured it, and before he could push it away, it had padded up to him and began licking his face. 

He had felt a smile slowly come to his face. It was the first time he’d smiled in . . .well, since he could remember. He scratched the dog behind its ears, and the dog lay down beside him, immediately falling asleep.

Since then the dog hung around him constantly, Bucky never having the strength to leave it behind. It was the one thing that had shown him love and affection in seventy years, except for maybe Steve. He shared what little he could scrounge with the dog; at night they slept in alleys, curled up together, providing warmth for each other. 

He’d thought about dropping the dog over at the shelter he’d passed by many times. But he’d seen trucks periodically stop behind the building, and he’d heard people there talking about animals that needed to be killed because of overcrowding. He couldn’t to that to his dog.

His dog. It was strange, to think of the dog as his. It had been almost seventy years since he’d been allowed ownership of anything. Everything, including him, had belonged to HYDRA. But now he had a dog. 

Tears welled in Bucky’s eyes now, staring at the dog. Who was he kidding; he couldn’t take care of this dog. He could barely take care of himself. The dog had stopped whining, probably realizing he wasn’t going to get anything from him, and had lain down beside Bucky, heaving great sighs and resting his head on his paws. 

“I’m sorry.” He said again, lying down beside the dog and resting his head against the dog’s side. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll find us something tomorrow.” He was mostly trying to reassure himself. Bucky shut his eyes, listening to the dog’s rhythmic breathing, trying to forget about the hunger and cold. 

He heard the dog whimper. Gently he stroked the dog’s fur with his flesh hand. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay. I’m with you . . .” He swallowed hard. “ . . .Till the end of the line.”

The dog nuzzled into his hand, licking his face briefly before laying it’s head down on it’s paws and falling asleep. 

“Till the end of the line, pup.” Bucky whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a very good chance there will be a sequel for this. I just ended it here because I'm not sure where to take it. As always, comments are appreciated and always responded to! :)


End file.
